


A Drunken Misadventure

by halcyon1993



Series: The Kinky Adventures of a Wolf and His Boy [14]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, College Student Stiles, Coming Untouched, Deputy Derek Hale, Dom/sub Undertones, First Time, Handcuffs, Knotting, M/M, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Mating Bites, Misunderstandings, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Scenting, Top Derek Hale, True Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 21:25:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14723855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyon1993/pseuds/halcyon1993
Summary: When Stiles takes Scott out to help him drown his sorrows in alcohol, he ends up getting wasted as well and accidentally breaks into Deputy Hale's house thinking it's his. Things turn out much better than he thought they would.





	A Drunken Misadventure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Poke360](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poke360/gifts).



> As always with this series, don't judge me for the depravity I have written...

Stiles meanders down the street, barely seeing where he is going. He doesn't even really know where he is. It's all Scott's fault. Damn him and his relationship drama… If Scott hadn't done something stupid and had yet another fight with his girlfriend, Allison, then Stiles—as Scott's best friend—wouldn't have been obligated to take him out so that he could drown his sorrows in alcohol.

Scott should know better than to do something he's not supposed to do and then not own up to it afterward. They're in college—they're fucking _adults_ now—but _no_. Scott is apparently still a child when it comes to maintaining a relationship. Even Stiles, who has never had a single relationship in his twenty-one years of life, knows better. Scott didn't even tell Stiles what it was he did to make Allison mad, which means that somewhere deep down he knew it was wrong. He just couldn't admit it.

Stiles wanted to leave the bar hours ago, but Scott kept plying him with more and more drinks, whining that he needed his drinking buddy, and Stiles couldn't resist those stupid brown puppy eyes.

Yup, it's all Scott's fault. Not little ol' Stiles' at all.

After a few more minutes of struggling to walk in a straight line and almost tripping over his own feet every couple of steps, Stiles turns a corner and sees that he is on a residential street. He must be near his house. Yes, the red brick wall on his right looks familiar. He knows that brick wall. He is getting close now, so he keeps pressing on, his mind filled with fantasies of falling into bed and sleeping off how totally fucked he feels. And not the good kind of fucked.

About halfway down the street, Stiles suddenly veers off to the right and ends up standing in front of a door. It's black like his, so to his drunken mind this means it must actually _be_ his. There is a light coming from the window to his left, so he figures he must have left one on before taking Scott out. Silly him. Giggling to himself, Stiles reaches up and runs his fingers sloppily across the top of the door frame, searching for the spare key that has always been there. He encounters something cold and accidentally knocks it to the ground.

Peering down at his feet, Stiles sees a glint of bronzed metal and bends down to pick it up. "A-ha!" he exclaims, holding the key high in the air like a trophy he has won. Inserting it into the lock is tricky. It takes him several attempts to find success and then even longer to figure out which way he is supposed to turn it. But eventually he gets the door open and pushes it inward.

Stiles walks inside and shuts it again with the key still sticking out of the outside lock. He walks straight up the stairs, not hearing that the television is on in the living room. He is so focused on tracking down his bed and sleeping off the alcohol in his system that he doesn't notice that the walls are painted a different colour—pale green—or that the house smells different to his own—like leather and sandalwood. He doesn't hear the TV being switched off downstairs or the footsteps following warily behind him a few seconds later. It doesn't even seem strange to him that the second door on the first floor hallway doesn't lead to the master bedroom like he is used to. He puts it down to his inebriated state and tries the next door along, behind which he finally locates the bedroom and throws himself down on the king-size bed.

He is out like a light.

* * *

Derek doesn't have the patience to deal with this shit. He just got off an incredibly taxing shift down at the station an hour ago and had been looking forward to spending a little time relaxing with a cool beer and his favourite TV show. Fate seems intent on denying him his wish, though, what with the stranger now asleep on his bed and all.

The deputy stands just inside of his bedroom, wondering what to do. He didn't get a very good look at the stranger, but it was clear from the smell wafting off of him that he was very drunk when he stumbled upstairs. Derek is cautious as he takes a step closer, still dressed in his uniform. Should he call this in? It _is_ technically a break-in, even though the stranger used a key, and for all Derek knows they could be dangerous.

It's the thought of what his fellow deputies will say about him if he calls for backup for one drunk man that stops him from doing so. Derek only recently joined the force and the hazing has just started to die down; he doesn't want to do anything to start it back up. Besides, he's a werewolf, and an alpha at that.

He can handle it.

It's then that an idea hits him. Derek nips back downstairs, retrieves his handcuffs from where he'd dumped his gear after he got home and returns to his bedroom, where he switches on the light this time. Slowly, just in case the stranger isn't in a deep sleep, Derek approaches the bed and nudges him. When nothing happens, not even a disturbance in their breathing or heartbeat, Derek quickly searches the pockets of the stranger's jeans for any form of identification but doesn't find anything except for the wrapper of a Tootsie Roll.

More confident now, Derek tosses aside the wrapper, turns the stranger over onto his back and positions his arms above his head. He opens the handcuffs, secures them around the stranger's wrists and takes advantage of the closeness to breathe in more of his scent—searching for what, he doesn't know. All he can get in that moment is the overwhelming stench of booze, so he steps back, his task done. He'll try again later, when the stranger isn't so drunk and his scent isn't smothered by alcohol.

Now that they can't leave the bed, Derek drops his caution altogether and sits down in the armchair in the corner of the room. He is probably in for a long wait, but he doesn't care, not when he finally gets the opportunity to look the stranger over properly. Derek wasn't expecting him to be so…gorgeous. There's no other word for it. They're _gorgeous_.

It's no secret to anyone that Derek doesn't confine himself to a label when it comes to his sexuality. He is attracted to who he is attracted to, and that's all he needs to know until he finds his mate. Still, Derek has never felt such an instant connection to someone, and of course that someone just has to be the man who broke into his house late at night and promptly passed out uninvited on his bed. Just Derek's luck.

The stranger appears to be several years younger than him; probably in college, Derek guesses. His short brown hair is ruffled but not untidy-looking. He wears a pair of blue jeans and his red sweater is a couple sizes too big, but Derek can tell that the other man's body is lithe and toned. A swimmer's body, his mother calls it, a nice contrast to the large muscles Derek has. Before the deputy can stop himself, he imagines what the younger man looks like without his clothes and struggles to shake the image from his head once it has formed. He blames it on the fact that he has been too distracted by work to have sex in months. That's all it is.

Forcing himself to stop thinking such thoughts, Derek settles back in the armchair and waits.

* * *

Stiles wakes up with a groan. His arms are sore, but that's nothing compared to his head. It feels like someone is taking a jackhammer to his skull. He should never have drank so much. Fucking Scott…

He tries to raise himself up to a sitting position and bring a hand to his head, but he can't. His eyes snapping open, Stiles cranes his head back and sees that his wrists are bound to an unfamiliar headboard with handcuffs that he definitely doesn't own. And if he did, they wouldn't be the very sturdy and real-looking pair that are keeping him where he is now.

"You're awake," comes a voice, startling Stiles.

The human flails atop the crisp blue silk sheets as much as he is able and whips his head around in search of the source of the voice. His headache gets worse with the sudden movement, but that doesn't matter, not when he finally realises that he isn't in his home like he thought he was before he passed out. He doesn't recognise anything he can see in the bedroom, and he _definitely_ doesn't recognise the man sitting creepily in an armchair in the corner, his huge arms crossed over his equally huge chest and his rugged yet pretty features pulled into a disapproving yet curious frown. Stiles would never forget him if they'd met before, because…God _damn_.

"W-what's going on?" Stiles asks timorously, his breathing picking up as panic suffuses through his entire being.

"You broke into my house last night," the man answers. "That's what's going on."

"I did?"

"Yes."

Stiles replays his last few memories of the night before and recalls that yes, he did. "Oh…sorry?"

The bearded man uncrosses his arms and sits forward. "Who are you?"

"Stiles Stilinski. I'm a college student."

"And you were drunk."

"Oh yeah," Stiles confirms, smiling wryly. He explains briefly about Scott and Allison. "I guess I thought this was my house, and apparently we keep our spare keys in the same place, so…"

The man appraises him for a long time, probably trying to decide whether or not he is telling the truth. Luckily for Stiles, the man decides in his favour and stands up, a set of small keys dangling from one finger as he walks over to the bed. Stiles guesses they are the keys for the handcuffs and is proven right when the man leans over him to undo them. But it's then that his luck seems to run out again, because the man doesn't actually unlock the cuffs.

"Hey! What gives?" Stiles demands, glaring up at him.

"The way you smell…" the man murmurs. He stares down at him, eyes wide and filled with wonder that makes him seem less harsh.

Stiles is offended and intensifies his glare in hopes of intimidating the man into letting him go. When that doesn't work, he tries words instead. "Well, I haven't exactly been able to shower since yesterday morning, what with me being locked up and all! Which, y'know, _I still am_. You gonna let me out of these cuffs or not?"

"Not yet."

"What?! Why not?!"

The man keeps staring at him and then, before Stiles knows it, lips are against his. He is stunned into inaction at first, but the man doesn't back off and soon he finds himself responding. He isn't normally one to kiss someone he doesn't know—especially when he doesn't even know their name—but Stiles seems powerless to resist the lure of the other man's lips. They're soft and gentle, kissing with tenderness but also with a passion simmering beneath the surface which promises something more intense. Stiles whimpers into the kiss and clenches his hands into fists against the headboard, wishing they were free so he could touch.

Eventually, before Stiles is ready for it, the other man breaks the kiss and pulls back, but he doesn't go far. A thin string of saliva connects their mouths, and Stiles' heart stops in his chest when he looks into the man's eyes and sees them glowing bright-red. He should be scared. He should definitely be scared, because he is still for all intents and purposes tied to a stranger's bed and said stranger's eyes are doing something no one's eyes should be able to do…and yet he isn't. Stiles isn't scared at all, still feels the draw to the man he felt during the kiss.

"What's happening to me?" he wonders aloud, his headache all but forgotten. The movement of his lips breaks the thread of saliva connecting them to Derek's.

"You're my mate," the other man responds, that sense of wonder still in his eyes even with their odd colour.

"I'm your what?"

"My mate. I finally found you. Or you found me, I guess."

The reverence with which the man speaks is confounding yet somehow touching, a feeling Stiles manages to overcome in order to form a proper sentence: "What…what does that mean? I need answers here, dude."

The man sweeps his tongue out across his bottom lip as if tasting him and then sits back with his legs crossed. "My name is Derek Hale. I'm a deputy here in town. I'm also a werewolf."

Stiles looks dumbly at the man—Derek—and swallows tightly. "A werewolf?"

"Yes. An alpha."

In the next second, Derek's face goes through an unexpected change. Coarse hair grows down the sides, blending into his neatly trimmed beard; his brow becomes heavier and his eyebrows disappear. His eyes stay red but seem to get even brighter; and when Derek bares his teeth, Stiles sees that they have extended into fangs that look sharp and deadly, like they could tear into anything. Finally, Derek holds up a hand and draws Stiles' attention to his fingernails, which have been replaced by claws just as deadly-looking as his fangs.

Again Stiles expects to feel fear, but apparently he has gone insane because no emotion like that washes over him; just curiosity.

As quickly as the transformation had come on, Derek reverts back to his human face and offers Stiles a shy smile. "I've been looking for you for years."

"Really?"

"I didn't know it was _you_ , but yeah." Derek's eyebrows meet in a small frown and he holds a hand to his chin, thinking about something. "Every werewolf has a mate. In human terms, I guess you could think of them like soulmates, one person in all the world who is a perfect match. You're mine."

Difficult as it is to believe, Stiles does. It explains the inexorable draw he feels to Derek, like Derek has his own gravitational pull and Stiles has been swept up in it. "So what happens now? If I'm your soulmate or whatever, are you going to unlock the cuffs? 'Cause I gotta tell you, keeping me locked up here isn't exactly making a good first impression."

Derek smiles again, but this time it's more predatory and sends a shiver down Stiles' spine. He runs a finger down in the inside of Stiles' arm. "Do you really want me to let you go?"

Stiles opens his mouth to say, "Yes," but all that comes out is an embarrassing choking sound.

"I will if you really want me to," Derek continues, "but think of the fun we could have with you like this. All the things I could do to you…"

Finding his voice again, Stiles feels himself starting to get hard in his underwear. "L-like what?"

"Well…"

Derek moves before answering, kicking Stiles' legs apart and fitting himself between them. He grabs the headboard, gripping the posts either side of the one the handcuffs are looped around, and holds himself over Stiles. Their bodies don't touch, but they are close enough together that Stiles can feel the heat radiating off of Derek in waves. He can tell that his cheeks are red and he wants to get the hell out of his clothes because Derek is just so _warm_.

"Imagine it," the werewolf says, so softly it's like he is sharing a treasured secret. "This is what's going to happen if you say yes. I'll tear off your clothes, strip us both completely naked so we can feel each other's skin. I'll lick over every inch you, going lower and lower until I take you in my mouth and swallow all of you down. I'll either pin your hips down so I'm in complete control, or I'll let you fuck my mouth. Depends if you're good for me. After you come, I'll finger you open for my cock and then slide into you slow as molasses until I'm all the way inside, and then I'll stay there until you're begging me to move, to fuck you hard until I knot you and fill you up with my seed. Then I'll bite you, claiming you as mine, tying us together forever."

Stiles is once again speechless. He doesn't know how to respond to the filth that has just poured from Derek's lips, but he wants it.

God, does he want it.

"Well?" Derek asks him. "What do you say?"

All Stiles can do is nod. His breath hitches when Derek's eyes glow red again and his claws reappear. The werewolf brings his index finger to the neckline of Stiles' sweater and then, slowly, he drags it down, exerting just enough pressure to cut the material cleanly without damaging the skin of Stiles' torso. The human feels like he should complain about his sweater being ruined—he really liked it, damn it—but he doesn't. He is still unable to form words, a state that gets even worse when Derek cuts down the inside of both of his sleeves as well.

The sweater peels from his body and then Derek fists it and yanks it out from beneath him, leaving his top half bare to the warm air of the bedroom. The heat coming off of Derek seems even warmer now, if that's possible. Next to go are Stiles' jeans, which meet a similar fate. Derek cuts the thread keeping the button attached instead of just popping it through the placket. He pulls down the zipper so hard that it breaks, curls his now clawless fingers around the waistband of Stiles' jeans and underwear and shimmies them down Stiles' legs. He has to stop momentarily to remove the younger man's shoes and socks, but then Stiles is left naked on Derek's bed, still restrained and at his mercy.

Stiles has never been so turned on in his life. His cut six-inch cock is already dripping pre-come into his happy trail.

"Beautiful…" Derek says, his voice full of awe.

Stiles resists the urge to squirm under the scrutiny. He isn't very confident when it comes to his body. He thinks he is too thin and his abs are nonexistent, but looking at the way Derek looks at him, Stiles can almost believe that he _is_ beautiful. It feels good.

* * *

Still positioned between the human's legs, Derek leans down and noses his way beneath Stiles' jaw. He inhales deeply, a low, rumbling growl reverberating from his chest as he breathes in the younger man's delicious scent. Never before has he smelt something so amazing, and to think he missed it when it was hidden beneath the stench of alcohol a few hours ago. He feels gratitude for his past self deciding to handle the home invader like he had, otherwise Derek might have still been waiting hopelessly for his mate to show up in his life.

Nosing down to Stiles' chest, Derek takes his right nipple in his mouth and sucks on it hard, revelling in the squeak that slips past the human's lips.

Stiles' skin tastes just as good as it smells. Derek bites his nipple gently and draws back with it held between his teeth, pulling it nearly to the point of pain before letting go. Opening his eyes, he looks at his handiwork and is satisfied when he sees that Stiles' nipple is red and abused-looking, will probably be sore for a few hours. He repeats the process with its twin and then moves even further down, dipping his tongue into Stiles' bellybutton and then burying his nose in the thatch of curls around the base of Stiles' pretty cock.

The human's scent is even more concentrated here, the scent of his sex making the base of Derek's own cock throb, in danger of popping his knot prematurely, which has never happened to him before. He knows it's because of who Stiles is to him, that they are meant to be together. His body knows it too and is responding accordingly, urging him to get on with it and claim the other man already.

Soon, he tells himself, giving his erection a squeeze through his slacks. He wants to savour their first time together. Rushing would be the worst thing.

When Stiles bucks his hips up, smearing pre-come across Derek's bearded cheek, Derek smirks, lifts himself up and pins down Stiles' hips like he said he would earlier. He licks a broad stripe up the underside of Stiles' cock and takes the head in his mouth when he reaches it, flicking his tongue across the slit and moaning at the salty taste of his pre-come. Ravenously, Derek takes Stiles down to the hilt, the tip touching the back of his throat. He bobs his head and gives Stiles the best blowjob of his life, all the while keeping his hips pinned to the mattress.

It doesn't take long for him to hear the human's heartbeat speeding up, a sign that he is close. Derek redoubles his efforts and thinks that the whimpering sounds Stiles is making are like music to his ears.

Taking him in all the way one last time, Derek is smug when Stiles spurts hot in his mouth. He swallows it down and, when Stiles' first orgasm tapers off, he pulls off of his cock with a wet pop and grips himself to prevent his own orgasm from overtaking him as he savours the taste of his mate's release. It's a close thing, but the danger passes.

Moving backward, Derek gets off of the bed and stands at the foot. He waits for Stiles to come down from his high and meet his eyes before divesting himself of his clothes as well.

* * *

Stiles watches raptly as Derek begins unbuttoning his beige shirt, revealing a plain white tank top beneath. Already he can see dark chest hair peeking out of the neckline, and he wants desperately to see more. His cock, lying soft now against his thigh after his orgasm, starts filling with blood again already, a refractory period so short it would stun him were all of his brain power not otherwise occupied by the man standing at the foot of the bed.

Next, Derek grabs the hem of his tank top and pulls it up and off, granting Stiles' wish to see more.

Derek's chest is marvellous, better than any chest Stiles has seen before, both in porn and real life. His large pectoral muscles are covered in fine dark hair, and his dusky nipples are hard and suckable. Stiles wants to do just that, returning the favour, but as he is still handcuffed to the headboard, he is unable to. He keeps watching as Derek raises one of his hands and runs his fingers through his hair, titivating it after stripping off his tank top messed it up. Stiles drools at the sight of Derek's flexing bicep and the enticing tuft of dark hair nestled in his armpit.

The hair on his head once again tidied up, Derek unbuckles his belt, yanks it through the belt loops of his slacks and tosses it to the hardwood floor. Next he undoes the button, unzips the fly and allows the slacks to drop to the floor. He steps out of them and kicks them aside, his cock straining in his dark-grey boxer-briefs.

Stiles' eyes nearly bug out of his head when he sees it. It looks _massive_. Already he can tell that the werewolf has several inches on him, and he looks thick too. Stiles' asshole clenches by itself, anticipating that more-than-impressive length pushing inside. Derek stands there for so long that Stiles pleads with him to remove his last piece of clothing, which, from the feral grin Derek gives him, was exactly what he was waiting for.

Finally, Derek takes off his underwear and stands there in all his glory, his cock at least nine inches long.

And hot damn, it's uncut.

Stiles supposes it makes sense. He doesn't know how werewolves work in real life—he'll have to ask later—but every piece of fiction he has ever read gifts them with advanced healing abilities. No circumcision here. Stiles is made endlessly curious by this revelation, having never encountered foreskin outside of porn. He wonders what it's like, how it would feel were he to stroke over Derek's cock. He wouldn't even need to use lube, because the older man is dripping pre-come at such a rate that a puddle must have already formed on the floor.

"Like what you see?" Derek says teasingly, twisting one of his nipples with his left hand and giving his cock a slow stroke with the other, pulling his foreskin all the way over the head.

Stiles nods jerkily and feels a thin trail of drool escape the left side of his mouth. He wipes it on his arm.

Derek crawls back onto the bed and retakes his position over Stiles. Stiles wraps his legs around the werewolf's waist and pulls them together, finally experiencing skin on skin. Their cocks rub against each other, Derek's dwarfing his, but Stiles is too lost in the sudden pleasure of it to give a damn. The concept of emasculation doesn't even cross his mind.

Derek thrusts down a few times and kisses Stiles, swallowing his moans, before moving again. Stiles whines when Derek's lips leave his, but he very quickly shuts up when the alpha unhooks his legs, swings himself around in a 180 and shuffles backward, putting his ass right above Stiles' face and his own face above Stiles' cock. More drool escapes Stiles' mouth as he gapes at the sight presented to him. Derek's ass is tight, muscular and hairy, and with how curled up the rest of the werewolf's body is, his little hole is on clear display, dusky and twitching against the open air.

Stiles wants to shove his face right in there and rim him—which, fortuitously, is exactly what Derek wants as well.

The werewolf lowers himself and practically smothers Stiles with his ass. Stiles curses the handcuffs all over again. He longs to grab a hairy cheek in each hand and squeeze them, but he settles for rubbing his face up and down the crack, breathing in the musky scent of Derek's hole. The tip of his nose catches on it every time, until he stops with his mouth over it and sticks out his tongue to taste it. Derek moans above him, urging him on, so Stiles skips any hesitancy and dives in like a starving man, eating Derek out for all he is worth.

He laps at the werewolf's tight rim until it relaxes and he is able to slip briefly inside, the rim clamping around his tongue like a vice. He seals his mouth in an O around Derek's asshole and sucks, a chuckle getting stuck in his throat when Derek starts participating, pushing is hole back onto Stiles' mouth.

A few moments later, Derek bends Stiles' legs back and then the human feels something slick prodding at his own hole. He stops eating Derek out as that slick thing slides inside of him, and after it thrusts in and out a couple of times he figures out that it's one of Derek's fingers.

He resumes rimming the alpha's hairy hole as one finger becomes two, then three, and finally four as Derek sneaks his pinky inside as well. It's a snug fit, but Stiles knows that, with how big Derek's cock is, such preparation is a necessity. He has never taken anything that size before. In fact, he has only had sex with one other guy in the past, and it was terrible. Already what he and Derek are doing is a vast improvement, and Stiles is sure it's only going to get better.

After taking his fingers out of Stiles' hole, Derek removes his ass from Stiles' face and turns himself back around. "Are you ready for me?" he asks the human, using the leftover lube on his fingers to slick up his cock.

Stiles' eyes are glued to it as he answers, "Aren't you gonna use a condom?"

Derek shrugs. "No need. Werewolves are incapable of carrying human diseases. I can if you still want me to, though."

After briefly contemplating the issue, Stiles shakes his head. "No, I wanna feel all of you."

Derek grins. "Me too."

Back between Stiles' legs, Derek positions the tip of his cock at Stiles' loosened hole and pushes slowly inside, stopping every couple of inches to give the younger man time to adjust. Once he is buried to the hilt, he remains there and finally does something about the handcuffs. Instead of getting the key and unlocking them, he reaches up and snaps the chain in half as if it were made of weak plastic and not strong metal.

Stiles is so shocked that he doesn't even move his arms for several seconds. When he does, he groans as he realises for the first time just how much his shoulders ache. "How did you do that?" he asks Derek, his hands coming to rest over Derek's ribs with the cuffs still around his wrists.

The deputy winks. "Werewolf, remember? I'm very strong."

Stiles shivers. "That's…surprisingly hot."

"You good for me to move?"

Clenching his ass a couple of times to test it, Stiles finds that he feels no pain and nods. "Yeah, I'm good."

Derek slams their lips together and lowers himself fully on top of the thinner man, pressing him down into the mattress as he arches his back and withdraws a few inches. When he pushes back in, it's almost as slow as the first time, but there are no pauses now. Derek moves his hips fluidly, a few experimental thrusts all it takes for him to locate Stiles' prostate and make fireworks go off behind his eyelids.

Stiles digs his nails into the shifting muscle of Derek's back and whimpers into his mouth, his legs tightening on their own around the alpha's waist, pulling him in deeper. Derek feels every bit as big as he looks, but now that Stiles is used to it, his massive cock feels amazing inside of his ass, his hole stretched as wide as it has ever gone. Soon he is begging against Derek's lips for him to go harder, to fuck him faster, to not hold anything back.

Derek thrusts gently inside one last time, pulls out again, and when he thrusts back inside the air is knocked from Stiles' lungs. Derek moves at a brutal speed that Stiles hadn't thought a human would be capable of, but then he thinks that, of course, Derek _isn't_ human. His thrusts are animalistic, almost violent, so much so that Stiles is sure he would be pushed up the bed and head-butting the headboard were Derek not holding him in place with hands curled around the back of his shoulders. Each time Derek withdraws from his hole, Stiles doesn't even have a chance to miss him before he is back again, his cock battering relentlessly against his prostate.

Stiles has never come untouched before, but he thinks he might manage it now. It doesn't take long for the familiar heat in his gut to burn brighter and hotter, and then, as if he can sense it, Derek whispers in his ear, "Come for me, Stiles."

Unable to do anything but obey, the human throws his head back and cries out as he shoots between them. It's like no orgasm he has ever had before. Sure, all of his previous ones had felt awesome, but when he used to read filth online in high school, the way all the fanfic writers described an orgasm always seemed to be exaggerated, at least in his experience.

Stiles gets it now.

When he comes back to himself, he feels Derek fucking into him with abandon, without any more thought for his pleasure. Stiles just holds on for the ride and willingly keeps his neck bared when Derek noses across it. At first, Stiles believes that the werewolf is just scenting him like he did before they started fucking, but he fast finds out that this isn't the case when something sharp scrapes against his vulnerable flesh.

"W-what're you doing?" Stiles asks Derek, wincing when the alpha hits his prostate again. It's oversensitive now, pushing past pleasure and into pain.

"Gonna bite you…" Derek rasps. He follows through on his promise before Stiles can protest.

It's like burning needles are digging into his neck. He can feel warm liquid dribbling down the side of it, his own blood, as Derek sinks his fangs in deep and holds on at the same time as he buries his cock to the hilt and stays there. This time, it isn't to tease Stiles or to let him get used to being split apart so wide. It's to allow his knot to form and lock them together, which Stiles only finds out when Derek starts expanding inside of him.

He scratches his nails down Derek's back and his mouth hangs open in disbelief as he is stretched even further, to the point where he is sure something must be tearing. It's incredibly painful, but only for a handful of seconds and then the pain becomes muted. Something strange is happening to his right arm, so he manages to crack his eyes open and crane his neck in just the right way to get a glimpse of the area, where he finds Derek's hand curled around it. Black spiderweb veins run up the werewolf's arm, and Stiles somehow knows that Derek is leaching off his pain.

He is grateful.

"You could've warned me it would hurt that bad," Stiles grumbles anyway.

Derek detaches himself from the human's neck, licks his lips and raises himself up to look Stiles in the eye. "It'll get easier. Soon you'll love it."

Stiles snorts. "Sure," he says sarcastically.

"Let's see, shall we?"

Before Stiles can stop him, Derek removes his hand and sensation floods back into Stiles' body. He expects to once again be assaulted by the pain of taking Derek's knot, but he isn't. It still isn't exactly pleasant, but it doesn't hurt anymore, and when Derek grinds against his ass his eyes roll back in his head and his cock gives a feeble twitch when the knot rubs hard against his prostate. "O-okay! Point made!" he gasps out, still not recovered enough from his second orgasm to even think of getting hard and coming again.

With a self-satisfied smirk, Derek flips them around so that he is lying on his back and Stiles is draped atop him. It's Stiles who tucks his face into Derek's neck this time.

"Sleep, baby," the werewolf whispers. "We'll talk more when you wake up."

Exhausted all over again from the intense fucking, Stiles can do nothing by comply, his eyes closing and his breathing evening out. His last thought before he slips under is that being in Derek's arms feels like coming home.

That must be what Derek meant when he said they were mates.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this was something... I don't think this was my best work, but I'm still proud of it and I hope you all enjoyed reading it. :)
> 
> Thank you to [Poke360](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poke360/pseuds/Poke360) for this prompt. I hope it was everything you wanted it to be. If anyone has suggestions for other PWPs they would like to see me tackle, even if you've had a prompt filled by me before, feel free to leave them in a comment down below and, if I like them, I'll try to make them happen. You can suggest _anything_ , as long as it's Sterek M/M.
> 
> Up next I'll be filling a prompt for [clavius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clavius/pseuds/clavius), in which Derek hypnotises and impregnates an unsuspecting Stiles.
> 
> **P.S. Don't forget to subscribe to me to be notified when my future fics go live, which will all be Sterek. I've got some good stuff planned. And please check out my past fics if you haven't already and are interested.**

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Drunken Misadventure (Traduccion)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14766723) by [yuki_yuki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuki_yuki/pseuds/yuki_yuki)




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